


Thunderstruck

by Kiki_J



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Caspar is afraid of thunder, Confessions, Emotional Sex, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Mentioned Golden Deer Students (Fire Emblem), Porn with Feelings, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Soft Caspar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:48:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25718341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiki_J/pseuds/Kiki_J
Summary: After a long day and a hard battle, Caspar gets caught in a storm and can't find his tent...
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 10
Kudos: 35





	Thunderstruck

The clouds grumbled overhead—merely a dull roar—but the sound sent Caspar’s stomach tumbling into knots inside him all the same. He shuddered, scanning the encampment in a frantic attempt to remember where he’d pitched his tent. Racking his scrambled brain, he managed to narrow his search to tents without the flicker of a candle flame emanating from within. He groaned when he realized this did little to aid him, as many of the others were still off by the campfire Claude had made to celebrate their recent victory at Gronder. Celebrating their triumph was important; Caspar knew that. Yet the victory felt hollow to him, soured by the fact that he had fought against former classmates and countrymen—and in his family’s own territory, no less. Unable to shake the dark thoughts and images that continued to lurk whenever he let his mind wander to that last battle, Caspar had forgone the celebration in favor of some solo late night training.

He had managed to relegate the heavy thoughts to background noise within his mind as he walloped away at a makeshift training dummy, jabbing and punching away his apprehension with relative success—that is, until the sky had darkened, and the wind had begun to howl.  
In his discombobulated state he had sprinted back to camp, only to discover that every tent looked the same—he couldn’t for the life of him recall which was his. Tentatively he approached them one by one, listening for movement or conversation and peeking at the equipment inside to get his bearings. Tomes on magic and the faint scent of cake… Lysithea. A quiver full of hand-fashioned arrows… Leonie. Sheets of parchment with half-finished sketches and paintings… Ignatz. Damn it, none of it was helping. If he could only think straight for one second—

The first bolt of lightning ripped through the horizon, causing Caspar to leap into the air. He quickly glanced about to ensure no one was around to bear witness to the anxiety that now pulsed through his entire body. Just as he had taken several deep breaths and begun to reassure himself that he was not, in fact, being watched, the cracking of thunder rolled across the plain, and without any further thinking, he bolted inside the nearest tent and curled up on the floor.

“Caspar?”

He blinked, a general shakiness blurring his vision for several moments before at last he managed to make out the long pink hair of Hilda Goneril cascading down bare shoulders and onto her white nightgown. “I…” he stammered, pushing himself off the ground to a more dignified sitting position. “Oh, goddess, Hilda, I’m so sorry, I, uh…” he blushed, realizing suddenly that Hilda certainly hadn’t expected any company, judging by her state of dress and the fact that her hair flowed free of any accessories—he had presumably caught her just as she’d intended to sleep.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I wasn’t sleepy anyway.” She scooted the tiniest bit closer to him and reached out her hand, taking Caspar’s own calloused fingers within it. “Caspar… are you okay?”

“I…” his cheeks grew hot, first from the reminder of why it was he had burst in so suddenly, and later from his own realization that he just couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering all across Hilda’s figure… goddess, did anything look bad on her? He settled his vision on the hem of her gown, where a delicate scalloped trim did little to distract him from just how short the garment was, and how much of her legs lay bare… He shook his head. Now was NOT the time. “I’m sorry. I forgot where my tent was. I’ll just get out of your hair, then…” He had begun to rise when he suddenly felt the touch of Hilda’s delicate fingers at his elbow.

“Wait! Caspar… you don’t have to go.” Her rose-colored eyes peered softly at his, sending the tiniest shudder down his spine. Though his senses screamed at him to bolt, the pleading in her rounded eyes and furrowed brow brought him back to a semblance of relaxation, and down to a position on the floor beside her bedroll. “Caspar, talk to me. Something’s obviously up.”

He sighed heavily, averting his eyes and scratching at his head. “I, uh… I really don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Okay, then don’t talk,” Hilda replied, picking up her hairbrush and running it through the ends of a lock of her long hair. “But… know that I’m here for you. If, you know. You decide you do.”

“Th-thanks…” he stammered. A symphony of raindrops had begun to threaten the walls of the tent, but thankfully there had been no additional lightning or thunder. Yet, anyhow.

“Hey…” Caspar began, directing his gaze back at Hilda. “Why aren’t you at the campfire? I’m sure Claude and the others are missing your usual cheer right about now.”

“Aw, thanks. They’d better be,” she laughed gently, setting her hairbrush back down in her pink travelling bag. “I just thought I’d get a head start on my beauty rest tonight. Plus, that campfire’s not going to last much longer in this weather.”

Caspar let out a stunted chuckle. “Yeah. I guess not.”

The tent then grew silent, with the pair avoiding each other’s gaze as they fidgeted with their surroundings. Caspar tugged at the hem of his tunic. Hilda tangled her hands in her freshly-smoothed hair.

“Actually, I—” Hilda began, but was interrupted by a deafening crack of thunder.

In that moment, everything Caspar knew was swept to the corners of his brain, leaving only two things: his fear, and his comfort. Anxiety jolting through his frame, it took him a good several seconds to realize where his thoughtless reaction had propelled him—into the lap of his comfort.

Hilda blinked. Caspar now lay beside her, legs curled in a fetal position, arms wrapped tightly around her torso, his head buried in her stomach. For several moments he simply clung to her, soundless, not daring to even breathe.

“C-Caspar!” Hilda gasped, but even the notes of shock in her voice did little to yank him from his frenzied state. “Caspar…” she paused, lifting one hand to stroke his cyan hair. “Uh… your grip is a bit… tight. It’s starting to hurt.”

“Sor-sorry!” He scrambled his way out of her lap, avoiding her eyes. He groaned. No point in hiding it anymore. “Ugh. The truth is, I… I’m kind of afraid of thunderstorms.” He frowned and chewed his lip, sinking his face in his hands. “I know, it’s lame; a tough guy like me?” He attempted in vain to laugh it off. “…I’m sorry, Hilda.”

“Huh? Why are you sorry, silly?”

“You know!” He met her gaze, pleading with his eyes, but Hilda still looked confused as ever. He sighed. “I’m… I let you down. I never wanted you to see me like this.”

“…Me in particular?” Hilda’s eyebrow raised as she shifted her position, her knees off to the side as she leaned closer to Caspar.

“Uhh, no! I mean—yes! I mean—” the warmth in his cheeks had spread to fill his entire face. “Ugh, this is so embarrassing…”

Hilda laughed, her soft voice echoing like bells across the tent. “It’s okay, Caspar. You don’t have to be embarrassed around me.”

“Y-yeah…” Come to think of it, Hilda hadn’t begun to glow even the slightest shade of pink since he’d burst in unannounced. Was that—was she just that comfortable around him? Or maybe she just didn’t care, and he simply didn’t mean enough to her to elicit any emotional response. He frowned, unable to reach a conclusion.

“Caspar.” Hilda spoke gently, reaching out her hand to touch him once more. A tingle spread through his body, emanating from the spot on his arm that she’d touched. “Come here.” Hilda stretched out her legs in front of her, smoothing out the hem of her nightgown (which miraculously hadn’t given way to show even the tiniest glimpse of her undergarments… Caspar’s face flushed deeper just for considering it. She then patted her thighs with one hand, using the other to guide a dazed Caspar to a position lying across her bedroll, his head resting gently on her lap.

For the first several minutes his breath remained erratic and his mind continued to race—echoes of thunderclaps and the scent of the freshly spilled blood of old friends still haunting him as he attempted to settle in to this unexpected scenario… here he was, lying across Hilda’s lap. Here she was, running her delicate-looking yet deceptively strong fingers through his hair, and eventually across his cheek… she was sure to notice how warm his face had become. The thought only made the matter worse. But after those first anxiety-riddled moments he began to relax, stretching his legs out to the side across Hilda’s bedding and breathing more evenly, fixing his attention upon the sensation of her fingers dancing through his hair, across his face… and when the next clap of thunder sounded across the camp, Hilda bent to cradle his head in her arms and whisper reassurances in his ear, dispersing the tangle of fear that welled up in his stomach almost before it had formed, much to his surprise.

“…Hilda?” He spoke up at last, his voice softer than usual, afraid to break the spell.

“Yes?” She peered down at him.

“What was it you were going to say earlier?” Caspar rolled on his back to look her in the eye, sending a different kind of jolt down his spine as he realized that mere inches separated their faces. His face reddened once again—but this time was different. This time, Hilda, too had a crimson glow seeping its way into her cheeks. His heart fluttered.

“Huh? When?”

“You know. Uh… before the thunder.”

“Ah… I… you know what? Just forget about that. It’s not a big deal.” Hilda glanced sideways, trying her best to avoid the gaze of the man whose head lay in her lap.

“Hey, you can talk to me. Besides, it’d be great if I wasn’t the only one being vulnerable right now.”

“That’s… true.” Hilda slowly conceded. She sighed. “That thing about beauty sleep was… well, mostly a lie. I just… I know it’s important to take pride in our victories, but…” She shook her head, strands of her pink hair ticking Caspar’s nose. “I can’t celebrate right now. I have so much planning to do before we get to Fort Merceus, and that last battle… well…”

“Tell me about it,” agreed Caspar. “I don’t think it’s sitting right with most of us, to be honest.”

“Yeah, and I know I have a responsibility to Claude and the others to help keep up the morale, but…” she shrugged, more pieces of hair falling loose in front of her. “I guess I just needed a night off.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with that.” Caspar locked eyes with her, his expression of concern morphing to a gentle grin. “You do a lot for this army every single day. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you work this hard for something. Definitely not in your academy days,” he teased.

“Hey!” Hilda exclaimed, shoving him gently in mock anger before letting out a laugh. “Well, you know. I guess now I figure that some things just might be worth working for.”

“Oh yeah?” Caspar prodded, his curiosity piqued. He scanned her face for clues, but found only a far-off, wistful stare before she blinked and focused her attention back on him.

Before Hilda could respond, the thunder crackled once again. Oh no. He’d allowed himself to become distracted, and as such the blissful moments of his usual fearlessness Hilda had restored for him came to a swift end as apprehension once again seized him. Before he could even process the feeling, he tensed up once again, curling his body closer to Hilda’s, wrapping himself around her like a cloak.

“I… I’m sorry…” he whispered when he at last recovered the ability to speak, awkwardly straightening out his body to its former position.

“No, Caspar, it’s… it’s okay,” she assured, one hand reaching to cradle his head and the other cupping his cheek. In the dim, flickering candlelight of the tent, her face appeared to almost glow. Her eyes seemed so big, like stars hovering just above him as her gaze fluttered from his eyes to his lips for a brief, delightful moment; their faces so close he could feel the tickle of her bangs brushing up against his forehead… the flush from his face tricked down through his entire body. Hilda… she was so close, closer than he’d ever hoped, closer than he’d ever dreamed—well, the last part was not quite true. Sudden recollections of fantasies he’d had began flooding into his mind, loud enough to drown out even the din of the pouring rain and the grumble of the clouds high above—but there was no chance Hilda would ever see him as he saw her, right? He hadn’t dared to consider the possibility that those fantasies could ever one day be real. Hilda was his friend, and a very close friend at that… but… it couldn’t happen. Could it?

So even now that her pink eyes were fixed upon his and their faces were so close he could feel the tingle of her breath glide across his skin, denial continued to plague him. Hilda was just a friend, just a friend…

An almost magnetic force seemed to unconsciously draw Caspar upward, and to his great shock it was Hilda who at last closed the distance between their lips to meet him in a kiss.

It was entirely possible that another clap of thunder could have crackled across the Fódlan sky in that moment, but so consumed was Caspar by the intensity, the sincerity, the raw power—no, electricity—of that moment inside the tent that for those seconds the rest of the world simply ceased to exist, leaving him and Hilda alone, together, in the warmth of their embrace.

As their lips parted slowly, Caspar opened his eyes as if waking from a dream, catching Hilda’s gaze with lips parted in pure wonder. Her eyes shone through his hazy stupor, reflecting the flicker of the nearby candles, yet possessing a warmth that remained entirely their own. A warmth… and a fire.

Before either of them could speak Caspar reached up to capture Hilda’s lips in a kiss once again, more forceful this time, and his hand glided up to cradle her cheek. Their lips danced around each other for moment after ecstatic moment, pressing in with force and drawing back languidly, only to meet again with the renewed fervor of a passion that had spent years lying in wait, undiscovered, unexplored.

At last Hilda withdrew, a grin creeping its way across her face as she gazed into Caspar’s cyan eyes. “Ah…” she breathed, her voice a mess of mumbles before she once again found her words. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for that.”

Caspar blinked. “Wait… what?”

Hilda laughed, tangling her fingers in a mess of cyan hair. “Caspar, I swear, you can be so clueless.” She shook her head, smiling. “Remember that time I asked you to come to my room and help me with some ‘luggage?’”

“Uh, yeah.” Caspar creased his brow.

“And there was no luggage?”

“Yeah, that was kinda weird—oh. Oh. Wait… really?”

“Yes, Caspar!” Hilda burst out laughing. “I wanted to be with you!”

Caspar grinned and squeezed his eyes shut. “Ack, I’m sorry I didn’t get it. But it’s like I told you. You can’t always afford to wait around for people to realize what you want.”

Hilda smiled, stroking Caspar’s cheek with her thumb. “Some things are worth working for.”

At that, Caspar smirked, and in one fluid motion pushed Hilda down to the ground and pinned himself on top of her, his lips caressing hers before withdrawing to her ear and whispering “Working for, sure. But I’m done waiting.” Caspar swallowed Hilda’s gentle laughter as he claimed her lips once again, one arm wrapping around her waist, clutching the silk of her nightgown with a calloused hand as he pressed his body to hers. He then withdrew rather abruptly. “Wait. When you said you wanted to be with me, did you mean… sex?”

Hilda laughed, her eyes penetrating Caspar’s very soul in that moment. “Yes, Caspar. I wanted you, even then.” She tucked her fingers behind his ear. “And I want you, now.”

Caspar reddened once again, another grin seeping its way onto his face. “Ugh, I can’t believe I’ve been so clueless.”

“I can. It’s very typical of you.”

“Hey!” he exclaimed, laughing in spite of himself, then nipping playfully at her ear. “Whatever. I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Hilda smiled, a daring glimmer sparking in her eye. “Now that you are, what are you going to do about it?”

A gentle grin graced Caspar’s cheeks as his eyes traced the length of Hilda’s face. He ran his thumb over her velvety-soft lips as he gradually—that is, as gradually as he could stand to do so—began to lower his face toward hers once again, slowly cocking his head and interlocking his mouth with hers in a gentle yet firm caress, then drawing back ever so slowly, a glimmer in his blue eyes as his grin morphed into a smirk, echoed by a light chuckle.

Hilda giggled back. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s just… wow.” He blinked, his eyes quickly surveying her form. “You’re just… it’s like… augh,” he groaned. “I’m no good with words.” No matter how he phrased it in his mind, it sounded too sappy, or—goddess forbid—like one Sylvain’s dumb lines. How was he supposed to tell Hilda that simply looking at her made his heart sing? That watching her chew her lip in thought during a war council made his head all fuzzy? That every time he ran across her, whether in the comfort of the monastery or in the treacherous heat of the battlefield, he became her helpless victim as a dreamlike smile danced its way to his lips?

He was absolutely, utterly in awe of her.

That was the only truth that formed coherently enough in his mind to say, and yet speaking the words hardly felt adequate—it didn’t describe all of what he felt, not precisely… but perhaps there was one way he could tell her. Or, rather, show her…

And so, wordlessly, Caspar leaned back into her, his lips forgoing hers this time to plant a feather-light, gossamer kiss on the peak of her cheekbone. He moved to retreat—he really ought to pause and look upon her face one more time before losing himself in her completely—but something about the smoothness of her skin against his, the way her breath caught as he made contact, and the rising of her cheek under his lips as her smile deepened gave rise to urges Caspar had kept hidden too long, a simmering ember deep inside him he’d been forced to choke down in favor of other, seemingly more important things. In that moment, as Hilda rocked her hips ever so slightly (perhaps unconsciously, or perhaps with more devious, deliberate intent) into his, he couldn’t begin to fathom how anything else in the world had ever meant more to him than she did.

And he needed her to know.

As their hips made contact Caspar brushed his lips down Hilda’s cheek, tracing her neck and pausing to suck her collarbone as he pressed his entire body against hers. He trailed increasingly passionate kisses up her neck, reveling in the increased pace of her breath as he braced himself on either side of her with his elbows and slipped his hands between the ground and her back. She shivered, and in turn so did he, at the sudden realization that only the thin straps of her camisole nightgown separated his hands from her bare skin.

“Caspa—” he caught his own name on her lips as he claimed hers once again, this time without any reservation, rocking his body into hers as he grasped at her skin, his grip gentle yet firm. After several blissful seconds he drew back, that damned smile she so effortlessly drew from him crossing his lips once again.

“Does… does that maybe explain it?”

A tiny, curious wrinkle formed at Hilda’s brow, accompanied by a glimmer in her rosy eyes. She reached up to touch his cheek, and Caspar leaned into her hand, eyes closing for a fleeting moment of peace before he resumed his search of her face for an answer.

“Hmm… maybe it does.” She began brushing her thumb gently across his lips. “But… just so we’re sure…” She began to lean up towards him, and instinctively Caspar moved a hand to cushion her head.

“Yeah… gotta be sure…” Caspar muttered, closing his eyes and the gap between their mouths as he inhaled her subtly floral aroma. Hilda parted her lips as they kissed and grazed his teeth with the tip of her tongue. Caspar blinked, his own tongue wavering in his mouth, unsure of how to proceed until Hilda’s returned to meet it, gently making contact to ease him into the unexplored territory.

As they continued, Hilda snuck a hand around Caspar’s back and just under his tunic. Caspar froze at the sensation of her hand, frigid from the surrounding air in contrast to the warmth his body was generating, against his bare skin. Instantly, Hilda pulled back, flashing an inquiring gaze. “Are… are you okay with this?”

Caspar nodded quickly. “Yeah, yeah, of course. I, uh…” he looked down to avert Hilda’s gaze, and was instead met with the sight of her chest against his, the pressure pushing her breasts up to create a set of tantalizing curves above the sweetheart neckline of her gown. He reddened once again as he noted the raised bumps of her hardening nipples under the thin layer of silk, and flushed deeper as he envisioned what lay beneath the fabric. He cleared his throat in attempt to clear the haze from his rapidly fogging brain. “I really want to; it’s just that… uh… if we’re being honest, I… I don’t really know what I’m doing with all this.”

He expected her to laugh, to judge him, perhaps, if only for a moment, so a grimace seized his features as he awaited her response. Instead Hilda simply smiled, stroking his cheek with her fingers. “It’s fine. We can take it slow.”

Caspar flushed, his anxiety dissipating with shaky laugh and the comfort of her words. “I should warn you though, I’m not so good at slow.”

Hilda giggled and stole a quick kiss before replying. “Oh, my dear, sweet Caspar. I had to wait all this time for you to figure out what I wanted. You can stand to be patient for just a little while longer.” With this and a coy wink, Hilda returned her hand to its position on his back, this time raising the hem of his tunic ever so slightly higher, her other hand snaking around to join the campaign of fingernails gently scraping across his increasingly exposed skin, leaving each hair follicle they passed standing on end.

Caspar exhaled, his muscles noticeably relaxing under her delicate touch. He dipped down to caress her shoulder with his lips, gradually venturing towards her neck until his mouth caught on the strap of her nightgown. Grinning, he dared to slide his tongue under it, teasing the skin on her collarbone and sending a joyous shudder down Hilda’s spine.

“Mm,” she hummed, her voice a mere whisper against the darkness as she shifted one hand up to slide the obstruction off her shoulder. Caspar repositioned his hands, tracing his fingers lightly down the length of her other arm as he continued sucking along her neckline, sliding the other strap to her bicep to match and continuing to trickle down her forearm until he reached her hand, took it in his, and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Hilda gasped suddenly, and for a moment Caspar paused, until he felt her shaking head and heard her muttered reassurances. “No… it’s good. Right there.” Obediently Caspar continued sucking the indicated spot on her neck. “Mm… hey,” she whispered after several seconds, sitting up slightly, causing him to have to back up from her. “I, um…” she grinned, her eyelids heavy as she reached for the fallen straps of her gown. “I want you to touch me more.” Before Caspar could respond, she began to slide the garment down, leaving a mystified Caspar staring as the fabric glided across her smooth skin to reveal her bare breasts.

“H-Hilda…” he mumbled, eloquence abandoning him as he tried to fight the urge to stare. But just like every other part of her—her face, her hair, her attitude and personality—her chest was beautiful, perfect in Caspar’s eyes. Exactly how he’d dreamed. Not needing to be asked twice, he lowered an only slightly shaky hand to Hilda’s right breast, running his fingers across it before cupping it gently—goddess, her skin was soft—and ghosting a thumb back and forth across her nipple. As her eyes closed once again she leaned back against the pillow, and Caspar fell back down on top of her, his mouth returning to tease the sensitive spot on her neck for a moment before kissing down the curve of her chest and coming to a stop at her other nipple, where he slipped his tongue between his lips to contribute it to the effort of caressing the hardened bud. A sigh (or was it a moan?) escaped Hilda’s lips as Caspar flicked and circled, his eyes fluttering to her face in attempt to judge which movements pleased her best. While he established this, Hilda continued to trace patterns across his back, creeping up to the base of his neck and punctuating the act with an insistent tug of his tunic. Soft laughter escaping his lips as he withdrew, Caspar sat up and allowed her to raise the garment over his head, rumpling a mess of uneven blue hair as it revealed his scarred, bruised chest. Very delicately, Hilda ran her fingertips over each highly toned muscle, a sort of somber smile crossing her lips. Her fingers brushed diagonally across a deep purple mark at the center of his chest. Caspar winced, more from the memory than from actual pain—Hilda had been there when the enemy axe had threatened the integrity of his armor, and she’d wasted no time calling out to Marianne, who’d come running at her friend’s behest, hands glowing with white magic.

“Does it still hurt?”

He shrugged. “It’s nothing. I’ll be fine in no time.” He bit his lip and looked down for a few seconds, then returned his gaze to Hilda. “Besides, what about you? There were a lot of arrows heading your way throughout the battle. Any of ‘em hit?”

Hilda’s eyes darkened as she sat up on her knees and began to lean over Caspar, pushing his bare chest to the ground with a single finger. “You wanna check?”

Caspar’s lip curled, a low, hungry sound escaping from his throat as Hilda straddled him. Hilda raised her arms as his hands wrapped around her thighs and travelled up them, grabbing the hem of her nightgown and finally sliding it off over her head, trailing his fingernails over her skin before tossing the garment into a dark corner of the tent.

Her body, laid almost entirely bare before his wandering eyes, seemed to glow in the dull glimmer of the candlelight. Though several scars, cuts, and bruises decorated her form as well, they completed rather than marred the masterpiece that was Hilda; badges of courage, emblems of times she’d saved the lives of their friends, of times she’d given all she had to give to the cause. They radiated warmth and light as much as any patch of unbroken skin.

A faint shade of red spread from Hilda’s face through to her chest, her lips parting as if to speak, to conjure up some excuse or apology for the state of her body, but Caspar simply shook his head, a smile on his face. He took her hand in his and kissed it, gazing up at her over her knuckles. “You’re perfect, Hilda. I’ll fight anybody who says different.”

Her flush deepened, but this time she did not frown in shame. Instead, a timid smile crept into her cheeks before she dove down and met his lips in an impassioned kiss. As they embraced, Caspar’s hands floated to her back, traversing all across her skin, determined to chart every scar and muscle like landmarks in unexplored territory. His fingertips traced her backbone as he breathed in her floral scent, welcome respite from the chilling smells of rain and blood-coated steel. He savored each sensation as he uncovered the many secrets of her body—the first, he hoped, of many, many adventures for the pair.

As their kiss continued Caspar suddenly felt Hilda’s fingers at his waistband, slipping underneath to brush his skin with the backs of her nails. Her lips broke from his, moving to his chin, his neck, his collarbone, and trailing down his chest until they met her hands. She untied the lacing and began to slide his pants and underwear off together, her thumbs brushing an indent down bare legs as his erection at last sprang free against the backdrop of the crisp night air.

A faint blush dotted Caspar’s cheeks as Hilda looked him up and down, a coy smirk stretching her features. She leaned back over him, teasing him with her hips above his, the fabric of her underclothes tickling the tip of his cock. She rocked her hips forward, putting just enough pressure on the head to send a shiver down his spine. His breath hitched, half gasp, half moan.

“Ugh… no fair,” he mumbled, eyes closed. “I wanna feel you, Hilda.”

“Then you’ve got to take these off of me,” she replied with a wink.

At this, Caspar opened his eyes, grabbed Hilda’s arms, and pushed her backwards, pinning her down on her back. “I never back down from a challenge,” he whispered in her ear, voice thick with want. As his mouth attacked her neck—an energetic series of maneuvers which were sure to leave a mark come morning—he hooked his thumbs under the band on her hips and slid her final garment to her knees.

A staggered rush of air dashed through Hilda’s teeth as Caspar pressed his body to hers, unobstructed at last, the warmth of every inch of her skin permeating every inch of his.

Arms grasped tight around her torso, he squeezed, the beating of her heart pulsing into his, vibrating his entire frame, and in that moment she felt like a part of him, an extension of himself, without which he could never be whole again. Even as another crash of thunder tore the heavens above, Caspar’s composure did not shatter. He buried his head in her chest for but a moment, soothing whispers and gentle kisses on his head quickly restoring his sense of ease and bliss. As she caressed him his hips began to rock into hers without conscious thought, and as naturally as he moved she reciprocated. Their movement slotted his length along her folds, and he glided against her, her juices enveloping him and causing her to let out a breathy, delighted sigh.

“Fuck, Hilda…” Caspar breathed, peeking through squinting eyes to spy Hilda’s parted lips and closed eyes. He braced his arms on her torso, sneaking up her stomach to grab hold of her breasts as he slid back and forth to the rhythm of Hilda’s breathing. His fingers teased her nipples as breaths turned to sighs and finally, to Caspar’s delight, moans of pleasure.

“Yes… like that… ungh!” her hips bucked up, desperate to increase the friction between them. Caspar rested his forehead on hers, ragged breaths intermingling as his lips ghosted over hers for several seconds before Hilda claimed them in an eager swipe. Much as she’d claimed his heart. Fuck…

As Caspar snuck a hand down to aid in his efforts below, his mind flashed for a moment to the stark reality of the situation in which he found himself, and in that moment a single thought rang clear above the others: nowhere else had he ever felt so joyous, so complete, so wanted, than here in Hilda’s arms, in her tent beneath the tempestuous Fódlan sky wrought with the terrors of war and broken promises. Though earlier the rattling clouds and acidic memories of fallen comrades had refused to leave him in peace, Hilda now quieted his every concern, the smoothness and warmth of her form against his smothering and drowning out all other thoughts and fears and rendering her the only thing on Caspar’s mind.

So when a blinding flash of lightning split the sky overhead, an undeniable clarity shot through his entire form, quivering through his veins from his heart to the tips of his fingers and toes, and he at last admitted to himself the truth of the matter.

He was wholeheartedly, unabashedly, blissfully in love with her.

And nothing was more important to him than showing it.

With renewed fervor he ground his hips against hers, fingers extending inside her in search of hidden regions of ecstasy, his lips adulating her face and neck in nonverbal promises of eternal faith, and as his lips hit the previously discovered place on her neck, Hilda cried out. “Caspar! I— I’m so close… I…” She tilted her head so her lips brushed his ear as she spoke her next words. “I want you inside me.”

His cheeks stretched in a grin once again as he made a clunky yet gentle effort to spread her with his fingers and slide his tip inside her, eliciting a gasp from Hilda as she brought a hand to her face. Encouraged, he pressed into her further, one hand aiding in his entrance as the other bore the brunt of his weight, placed lovingly next to Hilda’s face so that the hairs on his forearm brushed against her smile-rounded cheek.

“Hey,” he whispered, bending down to swat away her hand with a quick kiss. “No need to be quiet. I want to hear you when you come for me.” Though his face flushed slightly as the words escaped his lips, he looked straight into her squinting eyes as he rhythmically thrust himself deeper and deeper within her. The increasing pace of his thrusts fueled the intensity of her gasps and moans, which, in turn, heightened his own sense of pleasure, sending divine pulses of ecstasy from the points at which his body touched hers throughout his entire frame. Caspar bit his lip, focusing his attention on remaining strong, on holding out until Hilda got to experience that moment of deepest pleasure she unquestionably deserved. And yet, watching the way she bit her lip and scrunched her eyes as her breathing hastened, how she had begun to writhe in pleasure beneath him… he could feel his grasp of the situation rapidly slipping away.

“Hilda, I—”

“Ah! I’m coming! I’m coming! Ungh, Caspaaaar…” She threw her head back against the pillow and her body began to pulse against his, melodious gasps exiting her throat as she rode out her climax. Caspar continued to rock against her as she practically sang his name, bringing his heart—and something else—to the point of bursting.  
He released his fluid within her as the final, drawn-out syllable of his name crossed her lips. A gasp escaped from him, too consumed was he by his awe and reverence of her in addition to the sheer ecstasy of the moment to form words. For that pure, blissful moment, the rest of the world faded from perception, leaving him alone with Hilda in a land without time, without expectation, without pain or fear. With his pleasure he released the anxiety that had held him hostage—lighting, blood, thunder, singed flesh vanished at last from even the cast-off corners of his mind as Hilda replaced them with joy, hope, and, dare he consider it, love…

In time the pair’s elation waned and their breathing slowed, with Caspar collapsing onto Hilda’s chest in exhaustion, arms tucked under hers, looped in a loving embrace. He took a few moments to catch his breath, his head resting beside hers, his hot breath tickling her ear. At last he felt Hilda shift beneath him, so he moved to pull out, but was stopped by Hilda wrapping her arms around him and squeezing him tight.

“Hil-Hilda…” he gasped, an afterglow of bliss coloring his cheeks. “I, uh… augh, nope.” He sighed. “Still don’t have any words.”

Hilda laughed softly, the melody of her tone caressing his ears like the sweetest music he’d ever heard. “I think you articulated yourself pretty well, actually.” She snuggled her cheek to his shoulder, planting a quick peck on his face.

“What can I say? Always was a man of action.” He couldn’t help but laugh at his own bold assertion, causing Hilda to giggle back, spiraling the couple into a fit of laughter that only ended when Caspar pressed his lips to Hilda’s for a delicate smooch before bracing himself and pulling out.

He sighed and rolled to a position beside her on the narrow bedroll, stretching his arms out in the air in front of him until Hilda seized one hand and gave it a gentle tug, sitting up slightly and urging his arm around her shoulders as she shifted to lay across it. She closed her eyes and cuddled her body to Caspar’s, an arm draped lazily across his chest, index finger idly tracing a pattern back and forth over a section of his skin. He smiled, staring up at the damp canvas hanging overhead, for once unafraid of the beating droplets and the roar of the thunder overhead. How could he fear anything with Hilda at his side?

Thousands of words now swirled in his mind, promises of eternal faith, of support and admiration, of awe and of… love… Caspar wanted to say it all. Though he’d tried to tell her all he was feeling through his actions, he was sure there was more to say—perhaps there always would be. But now, at least, he found himself filled to bursting with the courage to say them, and the confidence that he would have opportunity enough to do so, eventually. So, though disjointed thoughts still splintered his consciousness, Caspar simply lay in silence, closing his eyes as he focused on the serene beat of Hilda’s heart, on the serendipitous flutter of her lashes as she blinked, and on the tenderness with which she wrapped her leg around his as if it belonged there. As if it always had.

“Caspar…” Hilda muttered at last through a mess of hair that stuck to her lips. “I’m glad you couldn’t find your tent.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he turned to kiss her forehead. “I’m glad, too.” But it was not the words he spoke that echoed the loudest, nor the thunderous tempest from the clouds overhead. The clearest, most beautiful truth of that moment was the delicate kiss he placed atop Hilda’s head, and the readiness with which she nuzzled against him in response. That simple kiss, punctuating the entire interaction, at last completed the masterpiece of the words he could not find.

The words that professed his everlasting love.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a sweet, emotional scene for Hilspar Week 2020. But I also think this pairing doesn't have enough good smut. The prompt this best fits is sincerity, for which I know I am one day late, but I really wanted to make sure it was good!
> 
> I write a lot (mostly novels) but this is the first time I have written fanfiction. I just really felt inspired to for them! I hope you like it.


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